


Stranger From Within

by nonlaconic_queen



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: :D, Gen, It also has platonic other things like Jack and Maurice, Role Reversal, also I should probably warn you, and Jack and Simon, but meh, i guess?, i mean ooc is the goal, im sorry for any ooc, please enjoy, this does contain platonic rogice, weird little au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonlaconic_queen/pseuds/nonlaconic_queen
Summary: Lord of the Flies is, of course, a classic novel with well known characters: the chief (Ralph), the chief’s hated sidekick (Piggy), the jealous one whose sanity quickly slips away (Jack), the “batty” kid who is actually the most sane (Simon), the sadistic right-hand man (Roger), and the side character (Maurice). But what if the chief was never the chief?, but instead the right-hand man? What if the “batty” one did, in fact, lose his sanity? What if the unimportant side character was the chief?Step into this alternate Lord of the Flies, and watch as each role gets repossessed.... by a stranger from within.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Stranger From Within

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, hi! This is my first fanfiction. I’ve been interested in this fandom for a few months now, and have written fanfiction for my own pleasure- but I have not, in fact, published it. So, here we are!  
> I really hope you enjoy my writing. More chapters are soon to come. Thank you very much for reading!  
> Also: Neither this story, nor the characters, are mine. All rights go to William Golding.

**Chapter One: Our Protagonist Acts With Maturity Around Seashells, And Addresses Children In Spanish**

* * *

* * *

The boy with the brunet hair flicks his bangs out of his eyes and squints into the distance. To be perfectly honest, he sort of wishes he’d paid better attention while boarding the plane- then, he might have an idea of where he was. It was much too late for that now, though.

Hesitantly, he takes a step forward and looks around the place. It seems like some sort of jungle, with tall trees filling every square inch, and small animals scampering across the ground. Yeah, he has no idea where he is. That’s not his biggest concern at the moment, though. Shrugging in resignation, he continues forward.

“My _god_ , won’t you wait for me?” Comes a huff from behind him. He turns around, and his gaze lands on a small, gloomy boy with glasses, who happens to be scowling. He stops to wait for him.

“Thanks, I guess…” Doom ‘n Gloom makes his way over to the brunet.

“Bah, don’t worry,” Brunet says with a grin, before continuing forward. “What, didja think I was gonna leave you hanging?”

“Guess not.”

Brunet lights up, pointing to an opening in the trees. “Look, it’s the end of the forest!” He dashes over, finding himself on a sandy beach.

Doom ‘n Gloom follows, folding his arms. “Wow. A beach. Incredible.”

Brunet laughs, and throws a handful of sand at his accomplice. “Lighten up! We’re on a beach!”

“Yes, and we were also in a plane crash. Your point?”

Brunet shrugs, before offering his hand for Doom ‘n Gloom to shake. “Whatever! I’m Maurice, by the way.”

Doom ‘n Gloom gingerly shakes Maurice’s hand. “Roger. Charmed.”

Maurice smiles at Roger, before walking down the beach to the place where the ocean meets the sand. “Ocean! Daddy took me to the ocean once. A buncha fish swam around my feet when I got in. It was super neat!”

“My papa also took me to the ocean once. I got sunburnt and I dropped my sandwich in the water.”

“Oh. Sorry about your sandwich.”

“Whatever… hey, what’s that?” Roger gestures to something shimmering in the water.

“Ooh! Treasure!” Maurice kicks his shoes off, and steps into the ocean to grab the mysterious item. He is disappointed to find that it’s not treasure, but a shell.

“That’s a conch shell. I used to know a guy with one.”

Maurice stares at the shell, wrinkling his nose. “It’s kinda lame. What do you do with it?”

“You can sell it. It’s worth a lot of money.”

“Money is _boring_. What else?” 

Roger rolls his eyes at “money is boring,” but offers another suggestion nevertheless. “The guy I knew said you could blow it, and it’ll make some sort of sound.”

Maurice seems to like this idea. “Ooh!” He lifts the shell to his mouth, and attempts to blow. All this does is make a noise that sounds like a fart. He finds this hilarious, and bursts out laughing. “I-is it supposed to make a noise like that? This might be the best thing I’ve found.”

“No, stupid,” Roger says with a scoff. “And laughing at fart jokes is so mature.” 

“It’s funny!”

“Yeah, whatever. Try blowing from your diaphragm.”

Maurice tilts his head to the side, confused. “Dia- huh?”

“Like, the bottom of your stomach.”

“Oh! Gotcha.” He tries to blow again. This time, it works: a sound like a trumpet comes out of the shell.

“Finally. Trying to teach you how to blow a shell is like trying to teach a baby,” Roger quips, though he can’t hold back the tiniest of tiny smiles for his new acquaintance’s success.

Maurice grins and hugs the shell to his chest. “I love it. Imagine how many people I can annoy with this thing!”

“Assuming there’s more people than the two of us here?”

“Oh...you’re right. Maybe we can search for some?”

They have no need to search for any, as a few young children- all of whom look between the ages of six and eight- come out of the woods and over to Maurice and Roger. Maurice sends an excited look to his new friend, before walking over to the children and giving a friendly salute in greeting.

“Hola, muchachos.” He pauses, and grins. “No, seriously. Hi. I’m guessing you guys were in the plane, too?”

A few of them nod, or mumble a “yes.”

“Alright. Roger, wanna help me take names?”

“ _Me_?” Roger stares at Maurice, incredulous. “Me. I barely like talking to you, much less new people.”

“Please?”

Roger grumbles something under his breath, and begins asking for names. Maurice does the same. So far, not a whole lot of people are there. There are a lot of younger children- ‘littluns’- with names like Johnny, Percival, Henry, etc. Also, there is a pair of twins- Sam and Eric- who seem to be taking great fun in confusing Roger. Roger does not look pleased.

The relative emptiness doesn’t last for long, though. Someone- a littlun- points in the distance, and yells, “WASSAT?” He’s pointing at a black mass, moving towards the group. Maurice frowns a bit, and squints at it. He’s just able to make out the shape of people within the mass. “Uh, looks like there are others.”

Sure enough, the black mass is people. Once they get closer, it’s clear to see that they’re other boys- in two straight rows, wearing some sort of funky robes. At the head of the group is a tall, lanky ginger, who is looking uncomfortably red.

The group stops once they’re just a few feet away from Maurice and Co. Ginger stares at Maurice for a moment, taking a deep, wheezing breath, before looking at the black robed group and barking, “Choir! Stand still!” He sends a pointed look at two boys- a small, bright-eyed one and a particularly attractive blond- who are whispering to each other. “And shut it.” He turns back to Maurice. “Where’s-” His eyes widen, and he grabs onto a nearby tree, gasping. “-the man with the trumpet?”

Maurice grins and holds up the shell. “You really think it sounds like a trumpet? Thanks! I was hoping I could audition for a jazz band with it!”

Ginger sends him a small glare. “No trumpet, then?”

“Nah. Just me, Maurice Sebastian Bellimo!”

“Hmph. And is th…. is ther-“ Ginger is unable to finish his sentence, as he loses his grip on the tree and falls face-first into the sand, passed out.

Both the choir and the main group explode into commotion. Much of the choir does nothing but snicker and poke fun of their leader. The only one that seems concerned is the bright-eyed boy from before. The littluns of the main group whisper amongst themselves, trying to figure out what’s happening. Maurice and Roger exchange a look, before Maurice rushes to help Ginger at the same time as the bright-eyed boy does.

Maurice and Bright-Eyes carry Ginger over to a shady spot under a tree.

“I’m sorry about that….” Bright-Eyes says, smiling apologetically. “Merridew’s always fainting. I mean, he’s done it in Gib., and Addis, and at matins- right over the precentor. I don’t think the heat helped it, either….”

Maurice shakes his head, looking at the still-red “Merridew.” “Doesn’t look like it. Gosh, he really got a facefull of sand…”

“He’s awfully embarrassed over it, too. We all don’t mind, of course, but I think he’s convinced we make fun of it behind his back.”

“That’s ‘cause we do,” The blond boy calls from the side, grinning. His grin quickly fades, though, to a look of slight concern. “He’s alright, though….right?”

Bright-Eyes allows himself a small smile, and he nods. “He should be fine.” 

Blondie’s expression changes again, to that of relief. “Good.”

Maurice sends a look over to Roger. “Wanna help me start taking names?”

Roger sighs. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

The two of them begin attaching names to faces. “Merridew’s” first name ends up being Jack. Bright-Eyes is named Simon. Blondie is called Ralph. There’s a rather fat boy there, too, who (apparently?) is called Piggy.

Once all the names are taken, Maurice blows the conch again. Everyone falls silent. Once he has their attention, he begins speaking. “Gentlemen, I think we’ve got a few things to address.” He pauses. “Firstly, there’s no grown-ups here. No rules. We can have fun as we’d like.” This earns a bit of chatter. Maurice grins. “Great, right?”

Roger clears his throat. “Mind if I speak?” He doesn’t wait for Maurice to reply before he goes on. “Listen, while complete and utter chaos sounds…. fun, I think we should have a chief. For deciding on things and keeping order and all that bull.”

Jack, finally awake again, calls from under his tree, “I ought to be chief. After all, I’m chapter chorister and head boy. I can-“

“-sing C sharp,” Ralph cuts in. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned. I don’t think C sharp is a real qualification to be chief, though.”

“Besides…” Simon begins, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re a little…… oh, how do I put this lightly……”

“-batty,” Ralph finishes helpfully. He flushes a bit, and sends the ginger an awkward smile. “I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

Jack, hurt, stares at the two for a moment, before glaring at the ground and mumbling under his breath about God knows what.

Simon clears his throat. “Um…. I don’t mind being chief. Actually, it might be fun!”

Maurice smiles at Simon. “Alright, I-“

Some littlun cries out, “I want the boy with the shell!”

Another one adds, “Yeah, I like Maurice!”

“Maurice for chief!”

Roger raises an eyebrow at Maurice, and mutters, “Quite the popular one, aren’t you?” Maurice shrugs in reply, smiling sheepishly. He continues, louder, with, “We should hold a vote, then. Hands up for Simon?”

The choir- including a reluctant Jack- raise their hands.

“And, hands up for Maurice?” Everyone else holds up their hands.

Maurice counts them quickly, then grins. “Hey, would you look at that? Hail to the chief, bitches!”

Simon smiles. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks!” Maurice smiles back. “If you want, you can keep your choir. Make ‘em whatever you want. I don’t give a crap.”

“Oh, thank you!” Simon glances at the choir. “What do you guys wanna be?”

Someone calls out, “We could be an army!”

“Ooh, yeah, an army!”

“Or hunters!”

“Or, we could put me in charge of my own _frigging_ choir-“ Jack chimes in, aggravated. No one pays him much attention.

Simon shifts with obvious discomfort. “I-I mean, guys, do we really need to be so violent….?”

“Aw, come on, Simon. Please?”

“Alright, fine….” He smiles uneasily. “Hunters it is.”

The choir is quite pleased with this, and begins talking amongst themselves. Maurice coughs to get then to be quiet. When they do, he talks again. “Alright. Now that that’s in order, I’ve got another thing to address. Are we sure this is an island? I mean, what if there’s a town or something nearby? Then we don’t need to be worried about rescue.” He glances around at each boy. “Which is why I’ll be taking a couple of you around the island. Like a tour!” This causes chatter to break about again. “Hey, quiet! I’ll take…. hm. Simon...“ Simon sends a big smile at Maurice. “...and Jack.” Jack looks momentarily surprised, but he quickly shakes that off and then nods, smirking.

Maurice grins, and gestures for the others to follow. However, he is stopped by Roger, who grabs his arm and raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“What….?”

“You’re going to leave me here with them?” The dark-haired boy gestures to the group, save the two of them, Jack, and Simon. “Even after I was the first one to meet you? Thanks.”

Maurice frowns. “Wow, I’m sorry, Roger. I didn’t mean to make you upset. Hey, wanna come with? If three’s company, four can be a party!”

“No. I don’t give a crap about going on the island tour. But you could have at least thought of me when choosing who you took,” Roger says, sending an almost disappointed look at Maurice. Before the brunet can reply, he walks off, muttering to himself.

Maurice sighs, and goes after Simon and Jack, who are already a ways away. Once he catches up, Simon sends him a bright grin. “Sorry we didn’t wait for you.”

“Naw, don’t worry. It’s not like jogging a couple yards ever hurt me. Except for that one time I sprained my ankle.”

“Ooh, ouch….”

“Don’t worry, I was alright!” Maurice smiles at his two accomplices. “Anyways, where to?”

Jack clears his throat. “There’s a mountain just over yonder. Figured that a high point would be the best place to get a view of the island.”

“Hey, thanks Jack! That’s a good idea.”

The ginger absolutely lights up with delight at the compliment, but quickly gets himself under control. “...yeah, of course. I always have the best ideas.”

The trio makes their way to the mountain. It doesn’t take a whole lot of time for them to get there, and about the same amount of time to get up it.

Upon reaching the top, all three of them are shaken in the best way possible. Wherever they are, it can only be described as a tropical paradise. Ocean, of a bright aquamarine color, meets golden sands all the way around. Various plants and flowers sprout from places scattered throughout the place. Puffy clouds dot the sky- which is now painted with streaks of pink, yellow, and orange- and are blown forward by a gentle breeze (the same breeze that is ruffling each of the boys’ hair). A group of six brightly-colored birds fly directly over their heads. Where they are can only be described as incredible.

Maurice laughs, looking up at the birds. “I think one of their feet just hit my nose!”

“I think one hit the back of my head!” Simon chimes in, his facial expression telling of pure euphoria.

Jack steps out to the edge of the cliff, resting his hands on his hips. “Ours now. All ours.”

Maurice gasps with excitement. “Wait, if it’s all ours, does that make me the king?!”

The redhead takes several moments to reply. “...I guess.”

“Yessss! Bow down, peasants! Kneel to me! I’m your king!” 

Simon giggles, and bows to Maurice. Even Jack can’t help but snigger and mock a curtsy.

The brunet grins, before looking around one more time. “Guess this is an island, then.”

“So’s England,” Jack mutters under his breath. “And there are plenty of people there.”

“Oh, right, my bad. It’s a _very tiny_ , _very abandoned_ island.” Maurice smiles at Jack. “Better?”

“I guess.”

“Great! Now, then, we ought to get back to the others!”

And, at that, the group begins heading back.

Once they’re back down the mountain, and in the forest, though, they stop in their tracks.

“...do you guys hear that?” Simon asks, brows knit together with concern.

Sure enough, a high-pitched squealing is ringing out through the place. Jack, pulling out a knIFE, walks off towards the sound. He reaches a patch of creepers, and turns back to the group with a grin. “It’s a pig.”

Simon gently pushes past Jack (apologizing, of course, for not saying “excuse me,”) and gasps. “Oh, my gosh! Poor thing…”

Maurice stands on his toes to get a glimpse at the pig. The pink creature is stuck in a patch of creepers, writhing around and squealing in fear.

Jack smirks, and holds his knife out to Simon. “Go on, then.”

The once bright eyes widen in horror. “W-what? Do you mean to say that I’m supposed to-”

“Kill it? Yes. After all, you are in charge of the hunters.”

“I-I… I don’t… I can’t…”

Maurice sends a reassuring smile to Simon. “C’mon, how hard can it be? It’s just a pig. No biggie!”

“B-but… it’s so innocent…”

Jack rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath before saying, “So’re spiders, but we’ve got no problem killing them.”

Simon stares at the knife for a moment, before taking a shaky breath and grabbing it. He turns to the pig again…

And the pig is gone.

He flushes, eyes widening once again. “Oh my gosh, I’m so, so sorry!”

Maurice shakes his head. “Naw, don’t worry about it. There’s other pigs, right?”

Simon nods slowly, not looking fully convinced. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Let’s keep going.” Without waiting for the others, he starts off.

Maurice begins walking as well, Jack catching up to him. The ginger murmurs, “Leave it to the other boys to elect the one person who’s too much of a snowflake to kill a pig as the leader of the hunters.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean… but he’ll come around eventually,” Maurice replies. After a brief pause, he adds, “Would you have done it? Killed the pig?”

“Duh. What, like it would be hard?” Jack grins. “I could probably kill a pig easier than I could pass a science test.”

Maurice returns the grin. “Are you good at science, though?”

“Pfft. No.”

The two of them chuckle and continue on back to the group.


End file.
